


It’s not right

by Fangirl_in_black



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Cap is emotionally repressed, Capvers don’t get together, Did I Mention Angst?, Gen, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, This Is Sad, alison is amazing, im sorry, like a lot of homophobia, they just cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29567796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl_in_black/pseuds/Fangirl_in_black
Summary: The Captain's having a bad day and a load of angst memories resurface. Alison helps.I wrote this in the middle of the night fuelled by coffee and pain. Someone let me loose on 19th century French literature, so sorry if I sound like a pretentious tosser.
Relationships: Alison & The Captain (Ghosts TV 2019), The Captain/Lieutenant Havers (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	It’s not right

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry

Cap stared out of the window, angrily trying to push away the lump that was stuck in his throat. 

It was a bad day for him, a day where memories seep in round the edges. Every item had a feeling attached. Every word seemed loaded with the past.

He went into the garden, hoping it would stem the unwelcome thoughts. 

It did not. 

Finally, he gave in to the lump in his throat. The tears chased down the curve of his cheek, then his jaw. He didn’t wipe them away until they pooled in his clavicle.

———————-

It had been spring. Early spring, sometime in March. Rainy, and cold. He'd gone into the town, leaving Havers in charge of Button House, and his feet had found their way to the little church on the corner of the High Street. 

Something deep in his ribs was aching with guilt. 

The church side door creaked open and he looked around inside. He'd last been to a church like this as a child, wanting to be somewhere else as the sermon droned. 

Feeling out of place, he sat down on the corner of a pew. He wasn’t quite sure the correct procedure - did you kneel on the cushion thing? Was that obligatory? Or could you just...say what you wanted to say? 

The Captain opted for the latter, and hesitated. How to open a conversation with the Almighty? 

'Er...Sir?'  
He was a superior, after all.  
'I'm...not right. I know it’s wrong, the thing I have. A sickness, or an abnormality. And I’ve tried and tried to change it, or stop it, but I can't control it. And if they find out, I’ll be... killed.'  
He tried a few times, throat constricted, before whispering,  
'I'm homosexual.' 

He cried on the way back to Button House that day, at the knowledge that he was broken, that he couldn’t be fixed. He didn’t really believe in God, but he needed the reassurance, needed to get it off his chest. 

The Captain knew with certainty that it would be impossible to ever let it out. 

————————

Another spring day, then. It was after the war, in ‘48. He was crossing a London street when he saw someone - a young man, barely a boy, being dragged across the pavement by two policemen. The boy was shouting, and he looked respectable. The Captain followed the two men, chasing them to stop them. 

'Hey! Excuse me.' 

They turned, still with the boy held tightly.  
'What is he being detained for?' 

'E's an invert.' 

The Captain's face quirked in an unidentifiable emotion. 

'Yeah, suspected. We just caught ‘im. Bloody scum.' 

The Captain drew himself up, and stared the boy in the eye quickly. 

‘That’s my son, Roger. He's most certainly not...anything of the kind! He has...a wife, er... Cecily. Yes, so I would be terribly obliged if you would just let him go, now.'

'We'll need to see identification.' 

'I served in the war, boy! I was a Captain. If you can’t trust me then I suggest you don’t leave the safety of your country on me!' 

The officer hastily touched his cap and handed the boy by the collar to the Captain. Once they had gone, the boy (who was staring at him with a sort of unbelieving admiration) said,

'But... why didn’t you...? I mean, it's true. You had no reason to come after me.' 

The Captain raised his eyebrows.

'Yes, well. Er. Maybe not, but... anyway. Er. Goodbye.' 

He turned and walked away quickly, wiping his face. Not daring to look back. 

——————

It wasn’t raining when he had gone into the barracks. Button House was calm. It was after curfew, and most of the soldiers had retired to their rooms or were listening around the radio in the kitchen. 

Captain was staring out of his window. His eyes, roving across the landscape caught suddenly on the figure standing just inside the gate.

He hurried down the stairs, making sure not to step on the one that fell through, and pushed open the door to invite whoever it was in. 

It was a woman. She frowned, and asked:  
'Are you the Captain?' 

'Yes, Mrs...?'

'Havers.' 

The Captain tried to conceal the shock, then pain that flitted across his face. 

‘Havers? Right. Yes. Do come into the hallway. Er.' 

‘I’ve come because...' she faltered. The Captain knew what she was going to say. He could see the mourning band on her hat, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to push it away. 

'William's... William was killed in action three weeks ago. I got the letter two days ago. He said that there was something I was to give you if he - died.' 

She handed him an envelope, which he held uncertainly. 

'Er - thank you. And my...my condolences. For your loss. I mean - your husband was... a great -' 

'Oh, no! He's not my husband. William's my brother.' 

The Captain's face changed again, unable to conceal...something. The corner of the woman's mouth turned up.  
'No, not my husband. Never anyone's husband, never wanted to be. If you catch my drift.' 

The Captain's eyes widened and he nodded. 

'Thank you. I - William was...a very good man. I’m sorry.' 

She nodded, and her feet crunched on the gravel as she went out through the gate. 

He remembered that night better than any ever. The Captain sat at his desk, and cried and cried. It didn’t occur to him to open the letter until after midnight. He reached for it, then pulled away. 

Maybe it would be better to leave it. It might be worse. It might be sensitive. It might cause emotions. Emotions were dangerous. 

It was William's though. He couldn’t not read it. He wanted the Captain to read it. 

Carefully, as if it were mined, the Captain picked up the letter. He used his thumb to tear open the flap, and gently remove the paper inside. 

It was written in ink, in a script the Captain recognised as Havers' informal writing style. Not for forms and so forth, but for personal matters. 

It read:

Captain,  
If you are reading this, I’m dead. I probably died in action. Don’t worry, that's how I want to go.  
I need to say a few things that I should have said before I died. I’m sorry I didn’t say them, and I’m sorry you didn’t get to hear them.  
When I came to Button House, I realised I had certain feelings for you which, if exposed, could endanger us both.  
Therefore, though it pained me to do, so I hid these feelings. I realise that if I am dead, there can be no danger to you or I other than the disgrace of my name.  
I hope you do not think worse of me for it.  
Ever yours,  
Lt. William Havers. 

The Captain read it a few times, and then pressed his knuckles to his mouth. 

It took a while for it to sink in, and when it did the Captain couldn’t understand for a moment. 

He had loved him. 

William had loved him.

And then he cried. He cried because of the things that could have been, and the things that would never be.  
He cried because it felt right, even after the world telling him it was wrong.  
He cried because he was alone.  
Havers was dead.

—————-

Suddenly the Captain heard someone clearing their throat behind him.  
He swivelled quickly, trying not to draw attention to his red eyes or catch in his breathing. 

'Alison! Er. What are you...?' 

She looked at him in a way that meant she was absolutely not taking his bullshit. 

'What's wrong, Captain - no, I know something's wrong. Don’t try to bluff your way out of this.' 

'Just...memories.' He lowered his head and Alison reached for him before remembering it wouldn’t do any good. 

'Wanna talk about it?' 

'Alison, I don’t know how to. I can’t talk about feelings. I just can’t.' 

Alison gazed at him. 

'Captain, it’s ok. It’s the 2020s, not the '40s. You're not going to be hurt for...well, for being gay.' 

The Captain stared at her. The shock registered, and then the sadness. 

'I just...every day, every single day I was reminded that I was unnatural, that I was dangerous, that it was degenerate. And it’s hard to get rid of something like that. It's deep-seated, and it doesn’t just...go. I’m sorry.' 

She raised her fingers to the Captain's shoulder, and he could have sworn he felt their warmth. Just for a second. 

'Hey. It’s ok. You’re safe - we're here for you.'


End file.
